Carmelilla Montoya, Juan Carlos Lérida, Ana Salazar,
Candy Román, Virginia Ureña, Juan Mateos, Cristobal
García, Rubén Olmo, Miguel Cañas, Antonio
Castro, Eli Ayala, José Galán, Inma Garrido,
Yolanda Cortés, Cosi ‘El Chato’, Iván
Alcalá, Angel Güell, Fede Gómez, Susana
Medina. Cante: Miguel Lavi, Joaquín Gómez, Chicuela,
Miriam Vallejo . Guitar: Eduardo y José Andrés
Cortés. Sax-flute: Cesc Miralta, Guim García.
Violin: Carlos Caro. Violoncello: Vito Iglesias. Keyboard:
Jumitis Tutupá, Jordi Barceló. Bass: Javi Martín,
Juan Antonio Guerra. Percussion: Isaac Vigueras ‘El
Rubio’, José Santiago ‘El Juarman’.
Drums: Yuan Sánchez. Original music: Chicuelo with
the special collaboration of Tomatito. Choreography: Javier
Latorre. Director: Emilio Hernández. Orchestra director:
Eduardo Cortés. Choreography: Javier Latorre.
“La Historia de los Tarantos” is a work
by Alfredo Mañas which narrates a man and a woman’s
struggle to place their love above the obstinance of their
respective families who are determined to thwart it: the Tarantos
and the Zorongos, two gypsy clans locked in an old blood-feud
and who choose hate, vengeance and tragedy over seeing their
families united.
The
work which in 1963 was made into a film by Rovira Beleta starring
Carmen Amaya and Antonio Gades is set in the Somorrostro neighborhood
of Barcelona in the middle of the last century; a shanty-town
dominated by misery, illiteracy and individuals without a
future, an underworld of outcasts which modern society had
always shunned and before which it closed its eyes and put
up walls to deny its existence.
This is the setting, and the concept that director Emilio
Hernández wants to highlight above all others. “We
live in an integrated Europe with a mixture of races and cultures,
and that generates conflict in a world that knows situations
such as that of Palestine, and this is why Los Tarantos is
so current”.
And so it is, this play represents social commitment to the
gypsy cause and to any other marginal group, as well as hope
for the future against the obstacles to peace.
Nevertheless, the importance of the social underpinning of
this work does not undermine its artistic validity, a challenge
seldom taken on from a clearly flamenco perspective.
When
you settle into your seat at the Barcelona Teatre Musical,
you expect to see a series of musical numbers interpreted
by a long list of performers who do not belong to the glamorous
elite of flamenco and who will do their best to string a story
together. But the reality is quite another as the talent and
earnest intentions of these men and women who by definition
are more familiar with flamenco than theatrical interpretation,
yield splendid fruit.
Exploring the depths and stirring
the most relevant political consciousness…dignifying the
primary identifier of the Andalusian character: flamenco.
The show begins with the singing of tonás while a
giant screen shows retrospective images of the Somorrostro
neighborhood. The story of three generations brings us up
the present of the action about to unfold. We are witness
to violent confrontations and hatred between the two gypsy
families in Barcelona: the Tarantos and the Zorongos.
Ismael, the young Taranto played by dancer Juan Carlos Lérida
meets Juana La Zoronga, played surprisingly well by Ana Salazar.
The young couple, rapt in passion, promise eternal love and
all is lightness and joy until the morning after when they
discover the rivalry of their respective families. Soledad,
the Taranto mother, played convincingly by Carmelilla Montoya
in a marvellous interpretation, is surprised and fascinated
by Juana’s dancing and this leads her to rise above
the family feud which Rosendo (Candy Román), the Zorongo
father adamantly refuses to forget. This is all held together
by a running narrative and dynamic, attractive staging, with
extreme respect and a musical idiom that makes this play much
more than just an experiment.
Without a doubt “Los Tarantos” is not merely
a nostalgic and thought-provoking take on the historic Somorrostro
of Barcelona, but rather a work which explores the depths
and stirs the most relevant political consciousness at the
same time dignifying the primary identifier of the Andalusian
character: flamenco.
We must not overlook the contribution of guitarist Chicuelo,
author of the music in collaboration with Tomatito, who have
produced an exquisitely sensitive soundtrack. Nor the functional
and elegant choreography of Javier Latorre. Nor the work of
the rest of the cast who are no less effective for being unknowns.
Noteworthy too is Juan Encueros, the drunkard who inhabits
the beach as played by Miguel Cañas, as are the guitars
of Eduardo and José Andrés Cortés and
the rest of the musicians, the wardrobe, lighting, indeed
every detail of this admirable production.
